Confusion flooded through Raven, sending tingles up her spine. What was this madman talking about?
“Oh, my dear,” Boucher said, noticing her reaction. “You did know that the crates were empty, didn’t you? It was a decoy. A ruse. A fake. I killed your father because those crates didn’t hold the treasure we were after. They were empty.”
Empty?She recalled seeing the crates open and empty, but there had never been any treasure? Her gaze swung to Landyn, pinning him to the spot. The caravan of Templar Knights, led by her father, were escorting worthless crates? Slowly, her brows came down over her eyes in a scowl of anger. “He died for nothing?” Her voice was tinged with hurt and disbelief.
Landyn put his palm up in supplication. “He did what he thought was right. It was important to him.”
“Youknew?” Her thoughts scrambled to understand his reasoning. “You knew the treasure wasn’t in those crates?”
Landyn’s shoulders sagged. “Aye.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did. I told you nothing was in the crates, but I don’t think you understood they were empty.”
“Because it’s irrational. Why would I understand?” she demanded. “Why would those crates be empty? Men died. Myfatherdied!”
“I…we…didn’t think the king’s men were that close.” He jerked a thumb behind him, indicating Boucher. “We didn’t think the king knew our plan.”
“Your plan was to endanger all those men, to endanger my father, for nothing.”
“Our plan was for them to follow us to the Peniscola port. By then, it would be too late to get to the treasure. They would have followed the wrong caravan.” Landyn shook his head. “We were expecting an attack, but not of that magnitude. Not that early.”
“The king was ready,” Boucher interjected.
She shook her head. “Father died protecting a treasure that wasn’t even there. His death was meaningless.” A heavy sadness filled her, and her chest felt as if a thousand pounds were crushing it.
“He died so a corrupt king could not get his hands on the Templar treasure.”
“Careful,” Boucher warned. “That’s treason.”
“John died a hero,” Landyn insisted.
Raven dropped her gaze to the floor, searching for the right answer. Searching for why her father had thought the treasure was so important—more important than his life. She took a step back. “You knew,” she whispered again.
“Aye. I knew. But Raven—”
She held up a hand. “No. I…I don’t understand. How could you have let him do that?”
Landyn paused, straightening in surprise. “Lethim do it?” His body relaxed as if he had sighed. “It was John’s idea,” he said softly. “No one told John what to do.” He dipped his chin and stared at her meaningfully. “He was a lot like you.”
Her heart blossomed and softened at his words and gentle tone. He was right. Her father did what he wanted to, and no one told him otherwise. The fact that Landyn thought she was like her father sent waves of appreciation through her.
Movement behind Landyn drew her attention.
Boucher stood behind him, the rope dangling from his wrist, his hand pulled back with a dagger in his clenched fist.
“Landyn!” she cried.
